Everyone Loves Buddy
by ActressForLife
Summary: Arthur and Eames are roommates. Arthur has taken to locking himself into his office every night and Eames is going to find out why. Arthur/Eames. Based on an episode of That 70's Show. Slightly crack-ish. T for a bit of language and boys kissing.
1. Harmless Snooping

**Disclaimer: **I am not Christopher Nolan, and therefore, do not own Inception are any of the character therein. I also do not own That 70's Show. I'm merely borrowing characters and quotes and playing with them

**Pairing: **Arthur/Eames; yes...there will be boys kissing. If that's not your cup of tea, kinly press the back button and be on your way.

**Notes: **This idea came about far too early in the morning. Enjoy the crack-y goodness.

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Part 1: Harmless Snooping

That insufferable roommate of his had taken over the office, yet again. Eames didn't know exactly what it was that Arthur was doing by himself in there. He could…imagine certain things were happening, but he was quite sure that Arthur had more class than that. All Eames knew for sure was Arthur would mutter something about research and then lock himself into his office and not emerge for quite some time. He was becoming curious about the whole thing. For all of his teasing, Eames rather liked Arthur, and the man's current behavior was disconcerting.

After this had been going on for a couple of weeks Eames decided to take charge. He would join in the other man's dream; figure out what inappropriate thing Arthur was doing, and have a good laugh when they woke up and Arthur found out Eames knew…whatever there was to know. He waited until Arthur locked himself into his office, gave him ten minutes to get settled (God knows the man wouldn't need more time than that. He was far too orderly.), and picked the lock. He knew he should feel bad about breaking into Arthur's office but he was, after all, a thief. He glanced around the room and saw Arthur hooked up to the PASIV, just as he had suspected. "Well duck, let's see what you're up to in this little dream land of yours," Eames muttered and hooked himself up to the PASIV.

Eames glanced around and found himself in a parking outside of a movie theatre of all places. He studied the people leaving the building and placed them around college-age and, judging by their clothing, they were in the 70's. This whole scene seemed very familiar to Eames, but he shook the feeling off, assuming that he had been wherever it was that Arthur had based his dream off of. Forger that he was, Eames took on the guise of a slightly younger man, with red hair and a large jacket. He loitered in the parking lot, waiting to see when Arthur would show himself.

He heard a familiar voice and casually turned to track it. He saw Arthur in a ridiculous brown leather jacket and his hair all…floofy and unjelled. He was slightly taken aback, and not just because Arthur's guise looked all too familiar. This couldn't be the Arthur that he knew. It simply couldn't be. Especially not with that impossibly goofy smile on his face. He turned his attention to Arthur's companion and nearly reeled back in shock. Arthur was accompanied by a projection…of Eames. Eames wearing ridiculous clothing from the 70's and looking just as happy as Arthur. They were engaged in an animated conversation and Eames recovered from his shock enough to hear Arthur say "That was a great movie, huh?"

The projection of Eames grinned and replied "Yeah. I mean, who would've thought that working at a car wash would be so much fun?" Arthur smiled widely at him and walked around to unlock the driver's side door on the car, which was a red Trans Am that looked distinctly familiar. "So, what do you wanna do now?" Arthur asked cheerfully.

"I dunno," Projection-Eames said as he slid into the passenger seat of the car and closed the door. He was silent for a second and then realization dawned on his face. He said something, but Eames couldn't hear what it was. But it all looked so goddamn _familiar_. Eames began to feel a little uneasy. He watched as the projection of him said something else and Arthur responded. His projection self was staring out through the windshield and just seemed…confused. Arthur was turned towards Projection-Eames, intent on what he was saying. He kept nodding and occasionally responding to what the other man was saying. That's when Eames got the shock of his life. As he watched the two men Arthur leaned across the seat, cupped his hand around the back of Projection-Eames neck and kissed him full on the lips. The projection was stock still for a moment, and then flailed and thrust himself away from Arthur. Eames faintly heard his projection exclaiming "Whoa! Whoa! You're _gay_!" He looked as though he was trying to dissolve through the car door, he was pressing against it so hard. Arthur looked completely nonplussed and just grinned across the car. He shook his head a little and said something. The projection was silent for a moment, staring at Arthur incredulously. He said something and Arthur paused for a second, then grinned again and said something else. There was silence in the car, Arthur looking at the projection who was looking everywhere but back at Arthur. He said something, asking to leave, Eames assumed since Arthur started the car. Even through his utter shock, Eames saw that there was something off in Arthur's eyes. He looked…_disappointed_, if Eames was correct. The car drove off and Eames just stood there, trying to figure out what he'd just seen. He was confused, to say the least. He glanced at his watch and saw that the dream was going to dissolve soon. "Bloody hell…" he muttered. "No way am I letting Arthur know I was in here…not after that." He grabbed the gun out of the waistband of his pants and swiftly shot himself.

Yanking the IV out of his arm, Eames put everything back exactly as he found it. He had gotten quite good at erasing his presence after years of being a thief. He didn't want Arthur to know he had been in the dream, and he didn't really want to think about what he had just seen. Or worse, think about what it meant. Slipping out of the office Eames re-locked the door and headed straight for the kitchen. He needed a stiff drink.

Twenty minutes later Eames was sprawled across the couch, nursing his glad of whiskey, and not paying attention to whatever movie he had randomly selected. In the last fifteen minutes he had reached a couple of conclusions. First, Arthur was using his dreams to play out something he obviously felt he couldn't in the real world. Second, the projection of Eames wasn't acting the way that Arthur wished it would. And third, Eames had feelings for Arthur. This last realization came as a bit of a surprise for Eames. He and Arthur got along well, and he enjoyed their living arrangement. It was nice, not having to be alone. And living with Arthur was always interesting. Eames had been known to take a male partner on occasion but he had never thought he had _feelings_ for Arthur.

"You really have shit taste in movies. You know that, right?" Eames jumped, nearly spilling whiskey all over himself. He was so far gone in his own thoughts that he hadn't heard Arthur enter the room. The dark-haired man plopped down on the other end of the couch and held out his hand. "Remote."

"Darling, I will have you know-" Eames began, having regained his composure.

"Stuff it Eames. Give me the remote." Eames grudgingly handed it over and Arthur proceeded to flick through channels, eventually settling on some mindless reality show.

"And you say I have bad taste." Eames grumbled after a moment, rising from the couch.

"Where are you going?" the smaller man glanced up at Eames.

"I'm grabbing the paper. You don't expect me to watch this drivel, do you?" Eames replied.

"Oh." Arthur said simply, glancing away to hid the color rising in his cheeks.

"Why, what did you think I was doing?" Eames questioned.

"I…I thought you might be…leaving…and I…I could change it…" Arthur said awkwardly, not looking at the other man.

"Why…darling! You actually want my company? Be still my heart." Eames said dramatically, throwing his arms up in a sweeping gesture.

"Shut up Eames," he said, grinning.

"But…darling," Eames pleaded jokingly, "Why must you toy with my emotions so?"

Playing along Arthur sighed dramatically. "Because Mr. Eames, it is so difficult for me to profess my undying desire to watch television with you."

"And that is all I have ever wanted from you!" Eames professed and threw himself back onto the couch. He turned to face Arthur and said pleadingly, "All I ask is that you don't make me watch this garbage." With that Eames pounced on Arthur and grabbed for the remote. Arthur just laughed and let the other man have it. Eames flipped through the channels on the guide and came across a re-run of _That 70's Show_. "Bloody hell…this is a blast from the past. I used to watch this all the time," he muttered and turned on the show. He glanced at Arthur and quirked an eyebrow, asking for approval. Arthur simply shrugged and settled back into the couch to watch. Eames was treated to the sight of two young men sitting in a red car. The one in the driver's seat looked very similar to Arthur. The other young man was Eric and he was pressed up against the passenger side door saying "You're _gay_?"

The one in the driver's said laughed a little and shook his head. "Me? No, I'm not gay." He stared dumbly for a moment and felt Arthur stiffen beside him at the exact moment that realization dawned on Eames. Arthur had been replaying this scene in his dreams, replacing the characters in the show with himself and Eames. That was why it all seemed so familiar to Eames. He snapped back into himself as Arthur launched himself off the couch and walked off. "Arthur, where are you going?" Eames called out.

"Bed." Arthur said shortly and disappeared down the hallway. Eames heard a door shut a little too forcefully and flicked off the TV. Groaning he rested his head in his hands and fought the urge to take off after Arthur and comfort him. "Bloody hell. What am I going to do?"

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**A/N:**Hey everyone! I was watching the episode of That 70's Show in season one titled Eric's Buddy, where Joseph Gordon-Levitt guest stars as Buddy Morgan and kisses Eric. It was 4am. My mind immediately started screaming this idea at me and wouldn't shut up until I started writing. There's more to this story, I just wanted to get this first part up and see if anyone thought it was worth continuing. I hope it's not too terrible. Review please! I'd love to hear what you think. Oh! The title is a quote from that episode.


	2. When the Lights Go Out, He Understand

**A/N:** Okay, so this chapter is from Arthur's perspective. It gets a bit dark at the end… *insert general disclaimer here*

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Chapter 2: When The Lights Go Out, He Understands

"Fuck." Arthur leaned back against his bedroom door and rocked his head back and forth, letting it fall against the hard wood on the backswing. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." Arthur was mortified. He was sure that Eames didn't know anything about the dreams he'd been going into. But when that particular episode popped up…Arthur was shocked. Part of him was somehow sure that Eames would figure it out if he stayed in the room. And if Eames figured it out…Arthur shuddered. He didn't want to think about what the consequences would be. Arthur hardly wanted a repeat of the Cobb and Mal situation, but more importantly, why would Eames _ever_ want someone like Arthur? He was too…methodical, too clean for Eames. Arthur was the child who had always colored precisely inside the lines with precisely the right color and never liked playing in the dirt. Eames was the child who had rolled around in the mud and scribbled over everything with whatever color he wished. At least, that's how Arthur always pictured Eames as a child.

But this whole situation? Arthur's methodical mind didn't know how to deal with it. There wasn't one straight path to follow. Any number of things could happen and he had no control over it. That terrified Arthur more than he wanted to admit. He knew the easiest way out was to stop going into that particular dream and his compulsive need for control was pushing at the back of his mind, telling him to do just that. But he just couldn't bring himself to quit. It had become something of an obsession. Arthur was convinced that dreaming was the only possible way he could be with Eames, and he didn't think he was capable of giving that up. He couldn't go back to surviving on the random moments of camaraderie that he shared with the real Eames. He craved something steady, even if it wasn't real.

Arthur wasn't worried about becoming lost in his dream, because it wasn't a real memory. It wasn't a real place. It was far enough from reality that he could revisit it every night and not worry about blurring the lines between reality and dreamspace. But the big problem was the fact that he couldn't change it. Arthur somehow, could not make his subconscious behave the way he wanted it to. He couldn't make his projection of Eames kiss him back, or admit any sort of feelings. He just got to live the role as it played out in that episode. The cringing up against the door of the car, freaked out by his homosexuality. Arthur always followed the course of the episode, always. He reacted as Buddy had and laughed it off. He couldn't think of any other way to react to it. Part of him knew that the reason his subconscious played the situation out the way it did was because he was sure that is exactly how Eames would react. Not necessarily to the gay aspect of it, but to the Arthur aspect of it. His subconscious was kind of a bitch.

The whole idea had come to him a couple of weeks earlier. It started out as a simple enough idea; he wanted to know if you could take an established plot line and change the outcome. The first time he had, of course, failed to change anything. But Arthur was never one to write off his first try at something as total failure. So he had tried again. And again. And yet again. As time went on Arthur kept using the excuse of conducting research, but he knew that it wasn't about research anymore. He couldn't change the outcome of this particular dream, no matter how hard he tried. But it had become something of an obsession with him. The happiness that came with spending time with Eames. The thrill he got each time his lips were pressed against those of the other man. Even the slight sense of contentment he got when he found out "Eames" didn't hate him, despite the surprise kiss. So he kept going back into the dream. He kept reliving the heartbreak for the good moments.

Arthur had watched That 70's Show when he was younger. He'd seen every episode. It had been a quirk that no one expected from him. They immaculate Arthur, enjoying a _sitcom_, of all things? He knew it was odd.

He recognized that he looked a lot like the actor who guest starred as Buddy in an episode of season one. He always wondered what would have happened if Eric had reciprocated Buddy's feelings. And then it struck that perhaps if he placed himself into one of the roles, he would be able to make something different. Since he wasn't a forger, he wouldn't be able to completely occupy the world of That 70's Show. He wasn't going to be able to produce the characters from the show, so his own projections would populate the world of the dream. He figured it would be people he actually knew, since the characters had such close interpersonal relationships. He went into the dream knowing that, but it didn't really dawn on him that his feelings for his friends and their relationships with one another would dictate who "played" who, as it were.

The first time was…interesting, to say the least. Arthur went into the dream assuming he could do as he pleased, the same as any other dream. That…wasn't the case. It wasn't as if Arthur didn't have control of his body, he just had this compulsion to act things out according to the script. He wasn't really even aware of the compulsion. He just _did_ it. It was one of those things; you don't realize something is strange until you wake up.

"Er…Arthur?" a British voice called from the other side of the door. Arthur jumped a little and realized that he had started hitting his head hard enough to create a hollow thunking sound.

"Yeah?" he said, rubbing his hand across the back of his head, wincing a little.

"Is everything all right in there darling?" Arthur may have been mistaken, but he thought Eames sounded worried. He shook himself a little and smoothed down the lines on the front of his shirt. He plastered a fake smile on his face and opened the door to regard the taller man.

"Yes. Just fine. I think I'll take a shower before I go to sleep." He pushed past Eames, still confused and not wanting to deal with the other man.

"Would you like some help with that?" Eames questioned, a lazy smile on his face. Arthur couldn't quite be sure, but he thought he saw concern masked behind that smile.

"Er…" he started awkwardly. Part of him wanted to jump on Eames and devour those smiling lips, while another part of him wanted to run screaming out of the apartment. He settled for the middle ground. Grinning a little he said, "That won't be necessary Mr. Eames. I'm quite sure I haven't forgotten how to bathe myself."

"Well, if you change your mind…you know where to find me." Eames said, the smile widening and his right eyebrow quirking upwards. He turned and crossed the hallway into his bedroom, stopping to toss Arthur a wink as he stepped through the door.

Arthur shook his head as he watched Eames' bedroom door closed. Pinching the bridge of his nose he wandered into the kitchen to take a couple of Advil. His insistence on banging his head against the door paired with the conversation with Eames had given him a headache. Dragging himself into the bathroom he turned the shower on. He undressed and climbed in, groaning as the hot water relaxed his muscles. It really was difficult having Eames for a roommate sometimes. He was never quite sure if Eames was joking or serious, and it really wore on his nerves some days.

Just now, for example. He thought Eames had just been flirting, like he always did. But there had been a slightly different quality to the offer. Eames had almost looked like he wanted Arthur to say yes. And what if Arthur had said yes? What would have happened? Would Eames have laughed it off? Followed through? All Arthur succeeded in figuring out was that he had more questions than he had answers.

"Fuck…" he muttered for the umpteenth time that night, leaning against the side of the shower. "Just…fuck."

Fifteen minutes later Arthur fell into bed, exhausted by all the different thoughts and emotions running through his brain. He was asleep almost instantly.

_He was running. He was running like hell. He didn't know where he was. He didn't know if he was running to something or away from something. Or both. All he knew was that he had to keep moving. He saw vague shapes flying past him as his legs pumped faster than he thought possible. _

_A figure appeared in front of him. He didn't have time to stop or even veer out of the way. He plowed into the figure and they both went tumbling to the ground. Arthur was dazed by the sudden stop and it took him a minute to focus his eyes enough to realize that the figure he was lying on top of was none other than a flirty, British man whom he knew quite well. "Eames." Arthur breathed._

"_Yes love?" an easy smile spread across Eames face, as if lying underneath Arthur were the most natural things he could be doing._

"_I…I…what's happening?" Arthur's mind was still reeling. He felt like he should be up and running, not lying on top of this other man. But he couldn't seem to force himself to move. "I was running, but I don't know why…"_

"_Shh. Hush darling. It's going to be okay." He smiled up at Arthur, reassuring him._

"_Is it? Is it really?" Arthur murmured. As much as he wanted to believe Eames…he wasn't sure the other man was right. "I…I have to keep running." He said, suddenly struggling against the strong, warm arms that encircled his waste. "We have to run!"_

"_No love. You can't run forever. You have to learn that sometime." Eames brought his face closer to Arthur, his breath tickling the loose hair falling over Arthur's eyes._

"_But…but…" Arthur stammered. He knew he needed to keep moving. Something was going to happen if he didn't. "We need to move…"_

_Eames sighed heavily. "Arthur? Do you ever stop worrying?" he asked and without waiting for an answer, pressed his lips against Arthur's._

_Arthur was in utter shock for a moment. This couldn't be happening. But it was. He kissed Eames back and moaned into his lips. He felt Eames grinning underneath him._

_And then suddenly, he was ripped away from Eames, being held back. Another figure stalked over to Eames and began to hit him. Kicking and punching, blows thwacking solidly on every inch of Eames' body. Arthur screamed incoherent pleas at the figure, begging it to stop hurting Eames. He struggled and found that he couldn't move. He was crying and screaming and struggling, doing all he could to save this man. Eames was bleeding and lying limply staring in Arthur's direction. "It's going to be alright darling. Don't worry. It's going to be…all…right…" his eyes closed slowly._

"_Eames!" Arthur screamed, his voice filled with anguish. "Oh god! Eames! No! Eames! Eames!" Tears started coursing down his cheeks and suddenly he was being shaken and the scene before him dissolved…_

He was staring up at a blurry figure above him. He was screaming and struggling. He threw himself off of the bed and away from the figure.

"Arthur! Arthur, calm down! It's just me." Arthur blinked until his vision cleared and it slowly dawned on him that it was Eames standing there. Not some mysterious figure. Arthur was curled up on the floor, shaking and still crying. It had been a dream…a nightmare. Arthur felt around for his totem. He cast it again and again until he was satisfied that he was indeed awake. Eames merely perched on the edge of the bed, regarding Arthur as he calmed down.

"God…I'm sorry. I don't know what happened…" Arthur started.

"Hush. You're okay now. I was reading over some documents and I heard you screaming. When I came in you were screaming and…and writhing all over the bed." Eames said, looking slightly pained.

"Fuck…I'm sorry. I…" he trailed off, not knowing what he was trying to say. He sat on the bed next to Eames.

"Do you want to…tell me what your dream was about? What happened in it?" Eames said tentatively. Arthur opened his mouth to tell him, but clamped it shut and shook his head curtly.

"Alright." Eames seemed to understand. If you change your mind…" he trailed off and Arthur nodded.

"Maybe…maybe in the morning." He said slowly, not wanting to commit to anything. Eames nodded and stood to leave, hesitating with his hand outstretched for a moment. He turned and walked to the door. He paused and turned back to Arthur.

"It's going to be alright darling." He said. Arthur shuddered at the similarity that sentence held to his nightmare, but he nodded.

"Good night Eames."

"Good night Arthur."

"Fuck." Arthur's word of the night surfaced again as soon his door was closed. "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

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**A/N:** Well…when I set out to write this chapter it was supposed to be a plotline run down of the dream Arthur keeps going into. That…didn't happen. But, I do believe that this backstory is rather important. Anyway, next chapter should be some more Eames, then back to the That 70's Show dream. Not sure exactly how it's going to work out…haven't written it yet. Title freely adapted from the song Pain by Three Days Grace. Which I do not own. ANYWAY, hope you enjoyed it, despite the…somber turn it took. Reviews make for a happy Megan!


	3. All These Thoughts Locked Inside

**A/N:** Another Eames-centric chapter. Runs alongside the last chapter but from, ya know, Eames POV. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Sorry this took so long, I'm still in need of a Beta… Chapter titled pulled from the song It Ends Tonight by The All-American Rejects. I don't own them. Or Inception.

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Chapter 3: All These Thoughts Locked Inside

Eames sat on the couch, massaging his temples for a good ten minutes before he heard a strange noise coming from down the hallway. It was a sort of hollow, thunking sound. Eames looked up and cocked his head to the side, trying to figure out what it was. He got up and quietly walked down the hallway, eventually pinpointing Arthur's door as the source of the sound. He stared at it, trying to puzzle out what exactly was going on. "Darling?" he called out softly. No response. "Arthur?" a little louder. Still no response. "Er…Arthur?" he called even louder. The thunking stopped and Eames heard a slight shuffling from the other side of the door.

"Yeah?" Arthur called, sounding a little dazed.

"Is everything all right in there darling?" Eames responded. He was starting to get a little worried about Arthur. The man didn't usually act like this. The door opened and Arthur stood there, looking slightly rumpled with a fake, pained smile on his face. That clinched it in Eames' mind. He was worried now. Really worried. All he could do was stare.

"Yes. Just fine. I think I'll take a shower before I go to sleep." He fumbled his way past Eames and started making his way towards the bathroom.

"Would you like some help with that?" Eames asked, letting a lazy smile appear on his face,trying to retain his normal levity. _I'll be damned if I let him know how worried I am._ Eames thought. _And if he says yes…well…_ Eames shook the thought off before he let it form fully in his mind.

"Er…" Arthur started awkwardly, staring at him. As Eames looked at him, Arthur seemed to be warring with himself. The man was more of an open book than he liked to believe sometimes, and Eames could nearly see the gears turning behind Arthur's eyes. Grinning a little he said, "That won't be necessary Mr. Eames. I'm quite sure I haven't forgotten how to bathe myself."

_That was…unexpected. _"Well, if you change your mind…you know where to find me." Eames replied, letting his smile widen and quirking up one of his eyebrows. He turned and crossed the hallway into his bedroom, stopping to toss Arthur a wink as he stepped through the door.

As soon as his door was shut he sank down onto the edge of his bed. "What the bloody hell just happened?" he muttered to himself. "I don't even know how to handle myself around the little bugger anymore. He gets to me…much as I hate to admit it…he gets to me." _Bollocks to this_, Eames thought, _I need a drink._

He poked his head out of his door and made sure he could hear running water before he went into the kitchen. Eames wasn't sure if he could handle another encounter with Arthur just yet. He rummaged around in the cupboards until he came up with a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He poured and lifted the glass, meaning to take a sip, but ending up knocking back the whole thing in one gulp. The empty glass stared up at his confused face for a moment before he shook his head. It was apparently going to be one of those nights. Eames' rinsed his glass and left it in the sink, intending to deal with it in the morning. He would probably forget and Arthur would take care of it. He always did. Eames smiled a little, thinking about how predictable Arthur could be. Grabbing the bottle he headed back towards his room and shutting his door. He threw himself across the bed and sighed.

Arthur really was incorrigible. He was always up and down, left and right, this way and that. He couldn't seem to just settle on a way to feel. And it drove Eames' crazy. He'd always been pretty solid with his emotions…until Arthur came into the picture, that is. He had almost mindlessly flirted with the other man over the years, never really thinking anything of it. They _were_ friends, regardless of what other people believed. They'd talked a lot, mostly over copious amounts of alcohol in the beginning of their relationship. But it had evolved from there. They started going out of their way to talk to one another, keeping in touch between jobs, random texts and the occasional phone call just to catch up. The teasing and the banter was just how they worked. It was how it had always been. But this last job…it had changed slightly, hadn't it? The Fischer job had pushed them all a little bit, and the quality of their banter had changed. Eames had flirted a little more heavily. Arthur had retorted with a little more affection. Maybe he was over thinking things…but he really didn't think so. Somehow, at some point, their relationship had changed.

Arthur had given in pretty easily when Eames had asked to move in with him. Eames thought back to that day. It had been in the midst of the Fischer job. Eames and Arthur had taken a quick break to grab lunch. "So, what do you think you'll do after the job?" Arthur had asked conversationally.

"I'm not sure yet…I don't fancy going back to Mombasa. What about you?" Eames had replied.

"Stateside. I'm ready to take a break and just be _home_ again."

"Mmm. Sounds nice. Perhaps I'll join you." Eames had said, quirking an eyebrow.

The point man looked at him. "Really now Mr. Eames? It might be…interesting to have you around a little more often."

"There is one problem though." Arthur looked at him and raised a questioning eyebrow.

"What might that be?"

"I haven't anywhere to live. And I don't really fancy trying to buy a flat. The real estate market in the States is really appalling."

"I see…" Arthur said cautiously, waiting for Eames to speak again.

"So, that means I'll just have to move in with you, doesn't it love?" Eames really had been joking. The idea of living with Arthur was an interesting one, but he highly doubted the man would say yes.

Arthur stared at him for a moment. "All right then. You're free to do just that." Eames had just stopped in his tracks and blinked after the point man.

And so it had gone. They wrapped up the Fischer job and Eames and Arthur had moved in with one another. Both had needed to make adjustments of course, but overall it had been a rather easy transition. They were well-suited to live together, in Eames' opinion.

But as of late, Arthur had been acting differently. Take tonight for example. One moment he was fine and joking with Eames in the living room, the next he was flustered and would barely look at Eames'. It was starting to drive the forger a little batty.

He groaned and took a pull from the bottle of whiskey, savoring the burn as the liquid slid down his throat. He was tired and he didn't really want to think about Arthur anymore. It made his head hurt and his stomach do odd things. He wasn't sure of his feelings towards the smaller man, and it was difficult enough to try to sort out when he was sober, let alone when he was getting tipsy.

"Bloody hell," he muttered and set aside the liquor bottle. He pulled out some papers he needed to go over and started looking over them. He ended up dozing off on top of them, only to be awoken a bit later by the sounds of screams. He jolted upright as his preservation instinct kicked in. He was fully awake in moments.

He jumped off of his bed and ran to Arthur's room. He pounded on the door and when he got no response, aside from the unintelligible screams, he took it upon himself to burst into the room.

He saw Arthur writhing around on the bed, screaming, and looking terrified. And very clearly asleep. "Bloody hell," he muttered "Poor bloke's having a nightmare." Their profession had the side-effect of not allowing them to dream very often, but when they did so, the dreams were often very vivid. Nightmares were even worse. Eames leaned over the bed and started shaking the smaller man, desperate to wake him up. "Arthur!" he shouted into the sleeping man's face, "Arthur! Wake up! Listen to me! You're dreaming!" Arthur's eyes suddenly sprang open and he stared up at Eames, tears standing in his eyes. He looked absolutely distraught. He threw himself away from Eames and curled up on the floor. "Arthur! Arthur, calm down! It's just me." Eames looked at him, trying to make his voice soothing. He could see tears starting to fall from Arthur's eyes. And he was shaking. Realization dawned across Arthur's face. He scrambled around haphazardly for his totem and started casting it. Eames sat down on the edge of the bed and looked away, knowing that only Arthur should be able to know what number the die would land on. When he heard the sound of the die hitting the floor stop, he glanced over at Arthur. The other man was still sitting on the floor and staring down at his hands, fidgeting with his totem. Eames simply looked at Arthur, waiting for him to say something.

He finally glanced up at Eames. "God…I'm sorry. I don't know what happened…"

Eames interrupted. He didn't need to hear Arthur's apologies or excuses. "Hush. You're okay now. I was reading over some documents and I heard you screaming. When I came in you were screaming and…" he paused, unsure of what to say, "and writhing all over the bed." He finished. He was sure there was some amount of pain in his voice, despite his attempts to mask it.

"Fuck…I'm sorry. I…" Arthur trailed off. He looked exhausted, tear tracks standing out on his pale face. He moved up to sit next to Eames on the edge of the bed.

"Do you want to…tell me what your dream was about? What happened in it?" Eames asked tentatively. He knew that Arthur probably wouldn't want to confide in him at least, not right now, but he figured it was worth a shot. Arthur looked like he was thinking about opening up for a moment, but ended up shaking his head.

"Alright." Eames said. He knew if he was in Arthur's place he wouldn't want to be reliving whatever it was either. "If you change your mind…" he trailed off and stared at Arthur. The other man nodded at him.

"Maybe…maybe in the morning." He said slowly. Eames nodded and stood to leave. He extended his hand for a moment to…put it on Arthur's shoulder, to brush his hair out of his face, to do something to comfort the other man…instead, Eames let his hand drop back to his side. He turned and walked to the door, pausing in the doorframe. He felt like he had to do something, anything, to help.

"It's going to be alright darling." he said. It was the best he could come up with. Arthur shuddered and Eames' winced a little. _I never have been very good at comforting people_ he thought.

Arthur nodded again and looked up at the forger. "Good night Eames."

"Good night Arthur." Eames replied quietly, and left the room. He crossed the hall into his own bedroom and flopped down. Seeing Arthur so upset had really messed Eames up. He cared about Arthur, a lot more than anyone really knew. Probably more than Arthur knew. Maybe even more than he himself knew. It was unsettling, really. Eames had never been in a situation like this before. Part of him hated it, the confusion, the missteps, how unsure he was. But part of him found it…exhilarating.

Eames had had partners before, of course. But none of them had been quite like this. Perhaps because Eames had focused mainly on the physical aspect of his past relationships. And with Arthur…there _was_ no physical aspect. There was just the friendship. And the…something more. And that was what confused him. Eames' didn't really _know_ what the "more" was. It wasn't pure lust. It couldn't possibly be love. So what was it? A schoolboy crush?

Eames' shook his head. He was too tired for this shit. Undressing, he flipped off his light and crawled under the covers. "Bugger this…" he mumbled. Arthur's tearstained face was the last thing Eames' saw before he drifted off to sleep.

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**A/N:** This story idea was originally just a little one or two chaptered ficlet. But…it's grown into something beyond that. Next chapter we'll be back into Arthur's head. I'm hoping to be more timely getting the next one up, but since it's the holiday season I make no promises. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter and I do love getting reviews.


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